The Kingdom of Chairs
by Spike Speigel1
Summary: There is another world. GSR.


Title: The Kingdom of Chairs

Author: Spike Speigel

Rating: PG-13

Classification: Grissom/Sara

Disclaimer: As usual, these characters don't belong to me. Just taking them for a joyride.

Spoilers: Nothing substantial.

Summary: There is another world.

Status: Finished. Also, much thanks to Anais and Grissom for their beta work.

* * *

They still haven't found the body. She said her name was Jaye Challis. When the cops found her, she was wandering about the bridge, dazed and confused. They say she attacked them unprovoked. Likely story. Heard that she broke one of their arms. That's what I heard anyway.

They brought her to Montevista where I was called upon to diagnose her. To this day no one's been able to figure out where she came from. I think she was a painter. She did one for me but I think I left it behind at the hospital. She was around thirty-five, give or take. I still can't believe that no one knows where she came from.

Not from here, anyway.

There is another world.

There is a better world.

* * *

­­­­­­­

"It's getting bigger everyday, Gran'ma Begbie. It's eating up the whole horizon."

"Maybe it's the same as it ever was, Jaye. Did you ever think about that, darling?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Doom." I turn around to see the Repent Chair, sounding the same as he always does. But this time, his words sound sincere as I look back to the horizon. "We're doomed. Doomed, I tell you. I warned all of you, but you wouldn't listen to me. Doomed!"

The Grandmother Chair begins to speak, my attention still fixed to the darkening horizon. "Don't you listen to him, Jaye."

"Hellfire and damnation! You sowed the wind with your sodomy and fornication and heathen malarkey. Now you'll have to reap the dreadful whirlwind coming your way." I think he's about to continue rambling about fire and brimstone but instead he surprises me, his tone almost nearing civility. "As for you, Jaye-bird, you're wanted by the Emperor."

"Me? What does the Emperor want with me?"

"None of my concern." The civility quickly vanishes at this point. "Doomed! Doomed, I tell you!"

Grandmother Chair begins to speak, albeit a bit softly that I have to strain to hear what she's saying in spite of the Repent Chair's ramblings. "Don't let him frighten you. He's been prophesizing doom ever since anyone can remember."

I want to believe her. I truly do. "Maybe he's right this time." I turn back to the horizon to see chimneys darkening the sky. In the distance I can hear the ringing of metal against metal as the keysmiths continue to forge new and terrible keys. Ring-a-ring. Ring-a-ring.

Ring.

* * *

"She looks pretty quiet now, Bill. It's hard to believe what you just told me."

He sighs softly, his hand moving through his now fictional follicles. "Well, why don't you go speak to Hatley?" His hand moves back down his face to his all too real follicles, beginning to stroke his beard. He turns away from Jaye, his attention now fixed on me. "Eight stitches."

"Okay. Okay." Jaye continues to dream, the bed's restraints strewn haphazardly about the cold white tile. "So what are you thinking then?"

"I want to keep her on 200 mg of thioridazine. And I really don't want an argument about it."

I emulate Bill's sigh, realizing exactly what he's saying. "Okay, but I've said this before, Bill. And I'll say it again. I don't think we're helping her by keeping her on drugs. This is a classic sex abuse case, and I'm absolutely convinced that all she needs is the right kind of therapy."

I could swear I hear a subtle laugh as Bill responds to my diagnosis. "How long have you had her, Mary? Six months? She's worse now than when they brought her in here. She's retreating further and further into this whole psychotic delusionary system with all that bullshit about talking chairs and key monsters."

Jaye's head twitches slightly out of the corner of my eye as I momentarily glance toward her. Still dreaming of god knows what. Of chairs and keys perhaps? I follow Bill out into the hallway, my voice straining to remain impartial even though I'm anything but. "Well, if she wasn't constantly loaded on anti-psychotics, I might be able to produce results fast enough to satisfy you."

I can feel the inevitable confrontation beginning to surface as Bill's voice begins to match my own. "As long as she's dangerous, she stays on the drugs. The only other option is ECT and I already know what you're gonna say…"

"You're damn right you know what I'm gonna say! What you're talking about is barbaric. ECT's been totally discredited and you know it."

"Bullshit! The technology's improved. Couple that with the fact that we know a whole hell of a lot more about the brain's electrical activity…"

I don't wait for him to finish. "So why do I get the feeling you just want a paper out of this, Bill? Why do I get that feeling? Why do I keep thinking you just want to make a name for yourself as the man who rehabilitated ECT?"

"I don't care what you think. All I know is Jaye Challis is desperately ill and showing no improvement at all with your therapy. So I really hope your interest in this girl is purely professional, Mary."

"What?" He doesn't pay the question any mind, instead walking away from me down the hall. Still, the silence says volumes. "Asshole."

* * *

Chalky dust lamplight of the kingdom of chairs floods the subterranean death row basement. Footsteps pitter-patter on the cheese board paving stones of the murder mile. I walk quietly with Gran'ma Begbie until we reach our destination. She motions to me to speak, so I do.

"You asked to see me? I'm here."

The blue light spark stink of ozone. Numb hammerbeat of raw voltage pulses in the air. I continue to look at the Death chair, waiting for a response. Waiting for the god king to speak. He never speaks, but you can feel it in your head. A million electrocuted convict voices whispering like the buzz of charged wires. Then, from the cacophony of dying voices, a clearer one. A familiar one.

"Hello, Sara."

The name leaves my lips unabated, the word soothing me yet terrifying me all at the same time. "Grissom?"

"Don't forget about me too."

Like light and dark, two sides of a backgammon piece they stand side by side. "Warrick. What are you two…"

And just like talking to the Death chair, Grissom answers my question, as though he can feel it.

"You didn't think we'd let you down, did you?"

* * *

"These policemen just keep turning up, don't they, Jaye?"

"Criminalists."

"Sorry?"

"You said police. They're crime scene investigators."

I nod slowly, trying to keep her as calm as possible. "Okay. Criminalists. Even so, what if I were to tell you I think they're disassociated parts of your own personality?"

She evades the question. Just as she always does. "I shouldn't be here. I can't remember all of it anymore, but I know I'm not supposed to be here. The Death chair sent me here for some reason, but I just can't remember…"

"I thought we agreed that this 'Death chair' was nothing more than your father, Jaye? All this fantasy stuff was just your way of dealing with those terrible abuses. Come on. I don't want to see you sliding back."

I can hear the frustration begin to seep into Jaye's voice as she tries to process what I've just said. "The Death chair was real. It's all real. My friends said they'd come back for me but they didn't ever…it's real."

I reach across the desk, my hands finding hers. "It's not real on a level you can afford to live with. That's the bottom line." I steel myself for what needs to come next. Because if she doesn't grasp the graveness of my words, then all hope is lost. "Doctor Sheppard wants you to undergo electro-convulsive therapy. I'm trying to fight him, but we need some progress here!"

For a moment she remains still, her eyes moving down to our enjoined hands. Then they move back to me. I think I can see a glimmer of hope in her eyes. Maybe I've gotten through to her.

"The keysmiths are going to destroy the kingdom of chairs and you want to see progress?" Her hands quickly pull away from mine, Jaye's voice the epitome of confidence. "Do me a favor. Why don't you let me go back where I can be of some use?"

* * *

"It took us a while to find you, Sara. That doctor really did a number on you, huh?"

"I don't know anymore, Grissom. One moment everything seems clear as day, the next…"

The hand on my opposite shoulder garners my attention as I turn away from Grissom to Warrick who's walking on the other side of me. "Don't sweat it. We'll get you home somehow. You'll see."

"But first we have to deal with the keysmiths. They're the real problem."

I turn back to Grissom, not noticing that I'm smiling until I see myself reflected in Grissom's eyes. It's been too long since I've done this. "I'm glad you're here. I missed you."

Grissom clears his throat, slightly taken aback by my honesty. "Careful or you'll make me blush." We share a brief moment before Warrick's voice draws me back to reality.

"What can you tell us about these keysmiths, Sara?"

"I don't know much. I got here and they treated me like some kind of…I don't really know. An angel or visitation or something along those lines. There's the kingdom of chairs, which is here, and there's the city of the keysmiths, which gets bigger all the time." We stop at the steel fence separating the kingdom from the city, my hands gripping the cold metal between my hands as I look off to the horizon, growing ever darker. "The keysmiths want to unlock, well, everything, I guess. They think every question has an answer and they won't rest until there are no questions left. No mysteries."

The clash of metal draws my attention from the horizon as I turn around to see the King's army being assembled. "That's the skeleton army. Fighting chairs." I shake my head, Mary's voice beginning to seep into my subconscious. "This is stupid."

I feel Grissom's arm gently drape about my shoulders as he kneels over me, his voice sincere. "Probably. Still, when has that ever held us back?" I want to smile at Grissom's levity. I really do. But Mary's still in my head, confusing me more than ever.

"I know…and I'm glad you're here and everything, but I keep on thinking about that old story about that king who dreams he's a butterfly and then he wakes up and he doesn't know if he's a king waking up from a dream of being a butterfly or a butterfly dreaming he's a king." I can see the concern in Grissom's eyes as I continue. "I keep wondering; am I the king? Or am I the butterfly? Or am I the dream?"

Grissom lifts me up from my stooped position, his hands gently rubbing up and down my arms as though he's trying to warm me up in a blistering cold. "Sara?"

"Yeah, Grissom?"

"Lighten up, will you?"

He finally gets that smile.

* * *

Crime scene investigators that act like cops? Jesus. If she had an agent, she could make a fortune in Hollywood. Keysmiths. Talking chairs. They all seem to represent faceless forces of authority, but it's an authority that's incomprehensible. Inhuman even.

The other characters she's spoken about. Grissom. Warrick. Male father figures perhaps? Don't I just know about that bastard.

Ever since Bill Sheppard took his little dig, I've been entertaining fantasies of saving Jaye from herself, sweeping her across the threshold and into bed. That skinny little body!

Dumb old dyke.

Haven't had a decent lay since that night I got drunk with Melissa. "But I've got a boyfriend!" How many times have I heard that one in the morning?

No wonder I'm horny.

I keep thinking of that case of Jung's. The girl with the demon lover who took her every night to a magical kingdom on the moon where she was a princess. She was an incest case too. Incest…the prerogative of royalty and divinities.

Jung cured her.

People like that, people like Jaye, inhabit a world where everything is alive and significant. So we cure them.

I thought she liked me, but in the end I'm just one more keysmith.

* * *

"Sara, what is it?"

I can feel Grissom walking up behind me as I keep my eyes on the horizon. Well, what's left of it. "Look. The air smelled of metal when I woke up. Look. It's everywhere." The darkness has enveloped the horizon, the sun no longer visible. I can feel it in my bones. The end is near. "This is it." I turn to Grissom, thinking I'll have to explain myself. However, that's not the case as my eyes meet his. He already knows what I mean.

"Let's go."

I nod before making my way down the castle steps and out into the garden where Warrick's already waiting for us. He motions with his head as he speaks. "This way. The others are waiting for us."

He doesn't wait for a response, instead running toward the gate, Grissom and I in tow. As we near the gate, I can see the others coming into view, the Grandmother chair's voice a hollow desperation.

"Oh, Jaye! It's happening! It's the end of the world and no one's ready!" I move toward her, trying to think of the words that might comfort her. "I don't think there's much time left. You must take this. We're all agreed."

The Grandmother chair motions to me to place my palm on the top of her upholstery, so I do. However, instead of feeling worn out polyester, I instead feel something cool against my skin. "Gran'ma Begbie, what is it?"

I turn my palm upward, a circular disk of copper now residing in my hand, the only marking on it a question mark in the center of its face. "It's the mystery coin, Jaye. Take care of it."

I'm about to ask her the significance of the coin now in my hand, but Warrick's voice startles me, both the Grandmother chair and myself turning to him. "They've left the city. They're coming." And sure enough, he's right. It's faint, but out in the distance is the sound of rolling thunder. The sound of keysmiths marching.

* * *

"Jesus! He's done what? I don't believe this! He…what?"

I'm still trying to compose some semblance of composure, but Melissa's voice on the other end of the phone prevents me from doing so. Especially with the news she's now delivering to me.

"Look, I just thought you ought to know… No, listen, Mary, I've got to go now…this is more than my job's…yeah."

"Yeah. Okay, Melissa. Yeah." I hang up the phone, rushing to the door, jacket slung over my shoulders. "Bastard! That bastard!"

* * *

I'm being restrained. I can feel the leather biting into my arms. "What is it, Dr. Sheppard?"

"Everything's okay, Jaye." Doesn't feel like it. "This is a muscle relaxant. You're fine."

I feel something damp being brushed against my temples, my forehead. "You shouldn't have woken me…I have to go back…what are you doing?"

I wait for a response, but the only one that comes is the resounding thunder. The keysmiths are here.

* * *

"We have to save them! What are we going to do?"

We stand on the wall separating the keysmiths from the chairs, Warrick looking down into the sea of shimmering keys. "There's no end to their numbers. Outside this city, the whole world belongs to the keysmiths." Warrick pauses for a moment, Grissom and I turning to him as the walls begin to shake. "Or maybe that's what they want us to think." Warrick turns to me, throwing me a wink before he does the unthinkable. "Only one way to find out."

"Warrick, don't!"

Too late. By the time I've screamed his name, Warrick is plummeting into the storm. I try to reach out for him, but my head begins to throb as though someone's squeezing it in a vice. Once again, I feel the sensation of dampness and metal near my brow.

* * *

"Dnnnnnnt."

"Okay. Now."

"Fnnnn!"

Throbbing replaced with coursing pain. Leather bites flesh. Fingers find respite in linen. And the walls come crumbling down.

* * *

"They're through!"

I feel Grissom's hand encircle mine as we watch in horror as the keysmiths begin to fill the garden. Then horror turns into despair as the keysmiths surround Warrick, the keys swiveling in their glass heads, counterclockwise, clockwise.

"They've got Warrick. Oh, Grissom! They've got Warrick!"

It's as though he already knows his fate as he waves to me. Then, before I can call out to him that we're coming for him, he closes his eyes. He never sees as the keysmiths plunge their keys into him, unlocking something that doesn't need unlocking.

"Warrick!"

Nothing remains. Only flesh and blood, the remains looking like someone's forgot to hang up a Halloween costume. The walls come tumbling down. The keysmiths have brought ruin to the kingdom of chairs.

"This is it, Sara." Grissom squeezes my hand tightly, his gaze still fixed on the carnage unfolding. "We're all that's left."

I know that tone. I know what's coming next. "Grissom, you can't. They'll kill you, too!"

Once more, I hear Dr. Sheppard's voice even though the world is ending.

* * *

"Again!"

"Fshhhh! Fffff!"

Lightning flashes through my head, the taste of blood filling my mouth. But the only sensation that matters to me right now is that Grissom is no longer holding my hand.

* * *

"Hit as many of the bastards as you can before they drag you down!" I watch in awe as Grissom begins to fell keysmiths left and right. Maybe we have a chance after all. As long as Grissom's with me, nothing can go wrong. "That's my plan and I'm…" He doesn't see the keysmith behind him. I try to call out but Grissom turns around as soon as the whirr of the spinning key comes down upon him. "Oh, Jesus…"

I feel the world beginning to slip away from me as the key plummets into Grissom's head, Grissom's screams filling the air even though he's already dead.

"Grissom. No." Hands pull me down to the ground; all I can see are keysmiths surrounding me. All I can feel are keys plunging into me. "Noooooo!"

Crazy Jaye.

I've been unlocked into sixty-four component selves, all mewling and helpless in the dirt. The keys continue to sniff the charred air, never leaving my side.

"Don't…don't kill me. I have to save the coin."

The jangle of keyheads fills my ears as brittle twig fingers scratch at me. Fingers scraping on black woolen pants.

"Why can't I do anything…"

The answer comes in the form of one more shot of lightning to the sides of my temples. I'm glad I can't feel the tears now trickling down my face. I'm glad I can't see the keysmiths surrounding me. I'm glad I won't be able to feel what they're about to do to me.

* * *

"What the hell have you done?" I'm too late. God, I'm too late. "Tell me you haven't done this, Bill! What have you done!"

Bill surprises me by not shouting back at me as he normally does in situations like this. Instead, he folds his arms across his chest, his voice calm. Professional.

"You want to know what I've done? I've made her well again. That's what I've done." The professional voice is now replaced with something more familiar. "What the hell have you been doing for the past few months apart from trying to get into her pants, Mary?"

The orderly begins to wheel Jaye out of the room, most likely taking her back to her own room for observation. I quickly begin to keep pace with her about to give Bill another piece of my mind, but Jaye's voice, soft as it is, stops me from doing so.

"Frr you…" Somehow she's able to stretch her hand out to me after the ECT session. I reach out to her, the emotion evident in my voice.

"Jaye!"

"Ssreal…ssreal…"

Bill comes between us, motioning to the orderly to continue down the hallway. I watch her disappear in the distance. "For Christ's sake! Can't you just leave her alone? What are you trying to do? I'm going to report your conduct! You haven't heard the end of this, Mary."

* * *

I didn't see much of Jaye after that day.

To tell the truth, I couldn't face her. Something had gone out in her eyes. She left the hospital with some stuff in a battered suitcase.

She got a job in the city. She worked all day, slept all night, went back to work, ate, watched TV, shit, slept all night. Just like everyone else.

She didn't ever paint again.

I don't suppose it was a bad life. People have worse.

But I keep thinking of her standing on the battlements, overlooking a world that burned and sang with strangeness. A world where chairs weren't something you just sit on. Just yesterday night she walked out of her apartment and left a note.

**IT'S NOT REAL**

She left a note and she went to the bridge and they still haven't found the body.

* * *

I should jump. I know it's not real. This isn't real. I can remember. The kingdom of chairs did exist. This is the fantasy.

I should jump.

That would prove that I'm right.

Oh, God, Grissom. You promised me that everything would be okay. Why didn't you keep your promise?

"Sara?" It can't be. I turn to the source of the voice, the rain blinding me. All I can see is the silhouette of…someone. "Sara, it's me."

I wipe the tears and rain from my eyes, the figure moving closer to me. When next I open my eyes, I find that my ears haven't betrayed me.

"Grissom?"

"Didn't I promise? We're going home now." He holds out his hand to me, his eyes sincere and tender. "Come in out of the rain."

* * *

That night, when they were wheeling her away from the ECT, when I ran to hold her hand, she pressed something into my palm. Something cold and metallic and round.

I hope they never find it.

I hope they never find the body.

There is another world.

There is a better world.

Well…there must be.

_Fin_


End file.
